


another shot of you is all it takes to drown

by subtlyhaught



Category: Charlie's Angels (2019), Charlie's Angels (Movies)
Genre: Descriptions of blood and injury, F/F, a bomb went off, bUT THE THREE OF THEM ARE TOGETHER NO ONE CAN TELL ME OTHERWISE, but i started writing and i got to a point where i went yeah this is the end, important tags to include are uhhh, it was gonna be longer cause i wanted to make it explicit that sab and jane and elena were dating, sab and bos are only in it a little, so oops, thats why its focused on jane and elena
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-04
Updated: 2019-12-04
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:48:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21673960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/subtlyhaught/pseuds/subtlyhaught
Summary: “Jane,” Elena said, voice toeing the fine line between pleading and commanding. “Jane, look at me,” then, as an afterthought, “please.”
Relationships: Elena Houghlin/Jane Kano, Elena Houghlin/Jane Kano/Sabina Wilson
Comments: 9
Kudos: 180





	another shot of you is all it takes to drown

**Author's Note:**

> the tags are long and in case youre like me and dont read them; there is a good amount of blood and injury described (not in vicious detail but enough to visualize) and also a uh, bomb went off, so please dont read if thatll make you uncomfy. other notes include there are like, 40 things i meant to have happen in this fic that didn't happen, like elena yelling at jane cause she was on the verge of blacking out, jane asking elena where sabina is, etc, but this is what we got uwu. anyway! its kinda based off blackout by danielle bradbery! that's where the title is from! i hope you enjoy.
> 
> also elena canonically listens to Run DMC so no one can tell me she doesn't listen to terrible rap music i am convinced.

Her ears were ringing. 

Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she could vaguely register Boz’s voice. The blonde was shouting instructions, probably frantically, but she couldn’t make them out, couldn’t even distinguish the words from one another. Everything felt like it was pulsing. There were hands on her arms, on her shoulders, but she couldn’t see them, couldn’t make out who they belonged to. The ringing felt like it was blinding her. 

Or maybe that was the smoke. 

It was thick, black, billowing from the street in front of her, from the walls of the bombarded house, wisping off the pavement. It smelled absolutely putrid - like chemicals and tar and oil. Sour. Her eyes struggled to fixate on the building. She tried looking through the smog, tried looking for the hostages, for the innocent people they were set to save, but there was nothing. No movement she could make out, no cries she could hear. Just the smoke. 

She strained her limbs, trying to get to her feet. Her knees stung, her palms throbbed, and there was an overall, bone deep ache that resonated through her body. She wouldn’t be surprised if she had a few broken ribs. The hands on her arms were frantic, seemingly trying to get her to sit still, to stop pushing, to slow down, but she couldn’t. The ringing was still strong in her ears, but by now it was beginning to fade, and she closed her eyes, tried to focus on the voice in her ear, on the feeling of the hands on her arms. 

_ Elena. _

“Jane, stop,” she was saying - whining even, but the words were still hard to process. “Jane,  _ please _ ,”

Jane shook her head, which only sent a hot flash of pain through her temples. She grit her teeth, drawing her knees under her, pushing against her bloody palms, trying to stand. Everything in her body screamed at her to stop, but she  _ had  _ to. 

“Jane,” Elena again, this time moving her hands to Jane’s shoulders. “Jane, there’s nothing-”

“ _ No _ ,” it was a grunt, something low and guttural, scraping against Jane’s throat. Her insides felt ashy - like she had inhaled too much smoke. Her arms shook, almost violent, but somehow she pushed herself back on her heels. Elena moved with her, and Jane finally managed to crank her head back enough to see the girls face.

She was covered in soot. Jane couldn’t distinguish her hair line from her face anymore - everything was just dirt and blood and ash. She had clearly hit her head on something; some cement or the side of a desk or a wall, something that caused a gash to form. It was long, and looked deep, cutting through Elena’s left eyebrow, stretching from her hairline all the way to her cheekbone, barely missing her eye. Blood was still flowing from it, falling down Elena’s face in thick waves, and she had to blink to keep her vision clear. 

“Ells,” Jane breathed, momentarily distracted. 

Elena smiled - small, just a quiver of her lips, but it somehow soothed Jane’s insides. Her hands moved from Jane’s shoulders, slipping instead into the groove of her jaw, fingertips just barely getting lost in the hair at Jane’s neck. Her thumbs brushed along Jane’s cheeks, and all Jane could do was stare at Elena; dirty, bloody, probably damn terrified, but still somehow beautiful. 

She shrugged a little. “S’okay,” it was a bit of a mumble, but Jane could read her lips by now. “I barely feel it.”

“You’ll need stitches,” Jane hummed, almost as though she was in a daze. Elena brushed her fingers along Jane’s cheeks again, and Jane could only imagine what she looked like right now. If it was anything like Elena, she was sure she was quite the mess. 

And then, like something snapped, Elena’s face fell. 

“We’re retreating,” she said.

Jane froze. 

“No,” she said, now struggling against Elenas hands again, trying to break away from them to spot the house, spot the smoke. “No, we can’t, there are still people-- there  _ have  _ to still be people--”

“Jane,” Elena said, voice toeing the fine line between pleading and commanding. “Jane, look at me,” then, as an afterthought, “ _ please _ .”

It took her a second, but Jane turned her head, her eyes remaining fixed on the smog for a touch longer before flitting to meet Elena’s, as though delayed. The other angel was still holding her face, still caressing her cheeks. Jane felt like she was shaking.

“Jane, we have to go,” Elena said, running her thumbs along soot stained skin. “Bosley is calling the retreat, okay? We weren’t ready, we didn’t know that they had bombs _.  _ Boz  _ needs  _ us to retreat.” 

But Jane was shaking her head again, losing Elena’s hands. Her muscles were screaming, but she pushed against her heels, lifting herself to her feet, leaving Elena crouched below her. 

“ _ Jane _ ,” Elena said, voice harder now, more demanding. Jane didn’t look back at her. 

“There are still people we can save, Elena,” she gritted.

The smoke was still tumbling from the house, through the remnants of the wall, kissing the rubble on the street. It wrapped around Jane’s ankles, just a light gray from the distance at which she stood, but still hot, still acrid. It felt  _ teasing.  _

She went to move her leg, to step towards the damage, to do her  _ damn  _ job, but the second she tried to shift her weight, she was back down. Her knee had buckled the moment she tried to put pressure on it, and her body folded in on itself, collapsing like a lawn chair. She hit the pavement hard, colliding into it with her shins, her knees. Something probably snapped. 

Elena was there in an instant, hands back on Jane’s body, carefully dancing around wounds Jane hadn’t even seen yet. “Jane, we have to  _ go,”  _ she said, even as Jane shook her head no. “Look at yourself. Jane,  _ look.”  _

Elena’s hands found her wrists, pulling Jane’s hand into view, palms up. They were covered in blood; oozing mostly from the heels, which is probably what had hit the pavement first. The blood was hot where it flowed, and cold where it had caked between her fingers, mixed with dirt and ash. There were abrasions all along her arms - on the pulp of her forearm, against her wrists, skinning her elbows. And that’s just what she could see. Everything stung.

She closed her hands slowly, testing her fingers, then reopening them, assessing the damage. She fingers ached with a kind of stiffness she had only felt once before, when she had hauled Sabina’s limp body out of the rubble that was their safehouse in Istanbul. That situation was  _ much  _ too similar to this one for Jane’s taste. 

She closed her fist again, letting her eyes flutter shut as well, took a breath into her lungs. Held it. Then opened her eyes again. “I’m fine, Elena.”

“What?” Elena sounded almost baffled. Her hands slid from Jane’s wrists, resting instead on her thighs, just above her knees. “Jane, you just--”

“I said I’m fine, Elena,” Jane said again, effectively cutting Elena off. She pressed her palms into her pants, containing her wince, before steeling herself to try and stand up again. And god, it  _ hurt,  _ but it wasn’t like Jane hadn’t gone through worse. 

“Jane, fucking Christ,  _ stop.” _

Jane froze.

Elena barely swore - it wasn’t a conscious decision, she hadn’t sworn off swearing or anything of the sort, she just... didn’t. They weren’t words that just came up in her day to day vocabulary (very unlike Sabina, who’s favorite word seemed to be  _ fuck  _ judging on the amount of times the blonde manage to slot it into her sentences). The first time Jane had heard Elena swear,  _ really  _ swear, not just a panicked  _ shitshitshit  _ said mid breadown during a chase in which they were being shot at, had been in her car. Sabina was sitting in the backseat, Jane at the wheel, and Elena on aux duty in the passenger seat. Jane couldn’t even remember what song had been on anymore, but she swore on her life that every other word had been a curse.

And Elena knew  _ every single one.  _

It had caused a confused kind of excitement in Jane, resulting in a bubbling laugh as Elena kept going, while Sabina had leaned between the driver and passenger seat, reaching for a high five, positively delighted, and practically screaming, “my girl!” 

But even then, that was an odd kind of luxury. Elena only swore when she was singing, buzzed, amped up, or really,  _ really  _ frustrated. 

It didn’t take a genius to figure out which one it was this time. 

Jane clenched her jaw, eyes stuck on the ground at her feet, unable to meet Elena’s. Her muscles were still tight, anticipating Jane’s movements, waiting to lift her, but she didn’t try to stand. Elena’s hands were still on her thighs. They were soot stained, her knuckles bloody, but they were there, and while her head was screaming at her to get moving, to get inside the house, to complete the mission, her heart kept her planted. 

She watched Elena’s hands shift. They drifted up her arms, ghosting her shoulders, before slotting into their earlier place, just under the groove of Jane’s jaw. She was gentle, putting just the lightest amount of pressure on her skin, coxing Jane’s head up until their eyes met. Elena’s were almost glassy pools of hot chocolate, warm and open and all encompassing and Jane could only stare as her lips twitched, pulling into a sort of half smile. A little sad, maybe, but still beautiful. 

“Come home with me,” she said, voice just above a whisper. 

All Jane could do was nod. 

(Bosley’s voice rang clear in Jane’s ears not a moment later, asking where they were. It was followed immediately by Sabina - sounding much less composed and much more concerned - frantically saying  _ is she okay? Did you get her? Are you guys close? Do you need me to come get you cause I will I swear to god.  _

And Elena, though hobbling through rubble and supporting most of Jane’s weight, managed a very cool sounding  _ I’ve got her. _

And maybe for the first time, Jane didn’t mind.)

**Author's Note:**

> on tumblr as i-said-oops please come by my ask box


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